


The Gold in Her

by bayloriffic



Category: Fringe, V (2009)
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2011-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayloriffic/pseuds/bayloriffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Erica gets to the bar, Olivia's already there, sitting in a booth at the back, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She’s got a glass of something amber-colored in front of her and she’s staring down at it, stirring it with a little plastic straw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gold in Her

**Author's Note:**

> In the _V_ -verse, this takes place after “Uneasy Lies the Head” (2.08) and, for _Fringe_ , it goes AU before the final couple of scenes of “6B” (3.14).

After the Live Aboard virus disaster, the FBI steps up its investigation into the Fifth Column. Which means that Erica spends the majority of her day listening to people refer her and her friends as terrorists and murderers.

One of these days, she’s going to have to figure out a way to compartmentalize a little better, because after eight hours of lying and deflecting and swearing to find the Fifth Column and make sure all of its members are brought to justice, she’s completely drained.

She’s finishing up -- filling out the last few bits of paperwork for the day -- when her desk phone rings. She runs a hand through her hair and picks it up without even looking at the caller ID.

“Evans,” she says, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Erica. Hi.”

“Olivia?” she says, trying not to sound too surprised. It’s just -- it's been months since she’s heard from Olivia, long enough so that she can't even really remember the last time they talked.

“Yeah,” Olivia says, a little ruefully. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Erica rubs a hand across her forehead and stares at her desk. There’s an open Fifth Column Task Force folder in front of her -- an investigation into the virus attack -- and she looks at it blankly, vaguely wondering why Olivia's calling. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Olivia says again. She sounds as tired as Erica feels. “So, uh, how’s it going?”

“It’s going fine,” Erica says. She closes the file and sighs. “You know, considering the whole alien invasion thing.”

Olivia laughs softly and Erica smiles a little. “So,” Olivia says. “I’m in town for this case --”

“Oh yeah,” Erica says. “That thing over in Brooklyn, right? They had to close an entire block for some kind of quarantine?”

“Right.” Olivia stops, not saying anything else, and Erica just waits. Her cell phone lights up and she pulls it over to her, glancing at the screen. _Hobbes,_ it says. Erica stares at the screen and listens to Olivia breathe on the other end of the line. After a second, she hits _ignore_ on her cell and puts her head down on the desk, pressing her forehead against the cold, hard metal. Her life is such a mess.

“You up for a drink?” Olivia finally says.

Erica picks her head up off the desk, smiling for what she thinks might be the first time that day. “Yeah,” she says. “Definitely.”

*

When Erica gets to the bar, Olivia's already there, sitting in a booth at the back, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She’s got a glass of something amber-colored in front of her and she’s staring down at it, stirring it with a little plastic straw.

Even from all the way over by the door, Erica can see the circles under her eyes, but she still can’t help but smile when she sees her. It’s just been a long time, is all. She’s almost to the booth when Olivia finally looks up from her drink and smiles back at her, almost beaming.

“Hey,” Erica says, sliding into the booth across from her. Their knees bump under the table and Olivia ducks her head a little, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey yourself,” Olivia says. Her ponytail is coming undone, tendrils of hair falling around her face. This close, the circles under her eyes look even more pronounced, almost black, but she’s still grinning at Erica, looking happy and relaxed.

“Sorry I’m late,” Erica says, bumping her knee gently against Olivia’s again.

“Not a problem.” Olivia pushes her drink toward her, the ice clinking gently against the glass. “Scotch?”

“Sure.” Erica takes the drink from her, their fingers brushing when she does. Erica’s stomach does a little flip and she bites her lip to keep from smiling too wide. She is so ridiculous sometimes, but she’s really missed Olivia these last couple of months, is the thing.

She takes a sip and closes her eyes, the scotch bitter and smoky and warm as it makes its way down her throat. When she looks up, Olivia’s watching her, eyes dark.

Just then a waitress appears and sets two more glasses of whiskey down on the table. When she leaves, Erica raises her eyebrows and Olivia shrugs. “Ordered them before you got here.”

“Thanks,” Erica says, raising her glass to clink it against Olivia’s. "Cheers."

They both take a long drink, and Erica watches Olivia, the way her pale throat works as she swallows.

Olivia sets her half-empty glass back down, and spins it around once, leaving a messy ring of condensation on the table. The corner of her mouth’s still turned up in a little half-smile. “I’ve missed you, Evans,” she says, voice low.

“Yeah,” Erica says, and for some reason, she can’t stop smiling. “Yeah, me too.”

She taps her foot against Olivia’s under the table. Olivia taps her back, leaving her foot resting against Erica’s as she raises her glass and takes another drink.

*

The bar fills up pretty quickly, mostly somber government types and Wall Street guys. Erica’s glad Olivia got a booth in the back, the two of them tucked away back where it’s mostly quiet.

After a few drinks, Olivia’s movements start getting loose and boneless, her smiles coming quick and easy. She's taken off her jacket and has stretched out, kicking her feet up to rest on the bench next to Erica's hip. The first couple of buttons on her shirt are undone, and Erica can't seem to stop staring at the pale, hard lines of her collarbone.

They've spent most of the night talking vaguely about work, since it doesn't seem like either one of them have much else to talk about. It's nice, normal even. And if Erica doesn't actually end up saying much about her job, well, that's not such a big deal. Anti-terrorism task forces rarely pack in the laughs, anyway.

Olivia's finishing up a story about Walter throwing a birthday party for a cow or a pony or something -- Erica's not really clear on all the details -- when the waitress appears with another round of drinks. Erica thinks it might be their fourth. Or their sixth. It's hard to keep track.

“So,” Olivia says, once the waitress leaves with their empty glasses. “How’s Tyler?”

Erica thinks about the last time she saw Tyler, and her house sitting big and empty across town, and she laughs before she can stop herself.

“That good, huh?” Olivia asks.

Erica scrubs a hand across her face and takes another drink. Her head’s feeling kind of light and fuzzy and everything around her looks hazy and unreal. When she looks up, Olivia’s watching her, staring at her mouth and tracing the rim of her glass with one finger.

She knows she should probably get back -- Anna's next nefarious plan is no doubt already being set in motion and Jack and Hobbes and Chad are going to want to know what their next move is -- but Olivia’s nudging her hip with her foot and Erica can’t bring herself to leave.

So she rests her hand on Olivia’s leg, on the bare patch of skin where the hem of her pants has ridden up a little, and strokes her thumb across the curve of her ankle. Olivia's breath hitches in her throat and Erica's stomach does that flipping thing again.

The bar’s loud and crowded and her glass is almost empty and Olivia’s eyes are dark and intense.

Erica leans forward, moving her hand so that it's resting next to Olivia's, close enough so that she can feel the heat radiating off her skin. “You want to get out of here?” she asks.

Olivia blinks at her, the corner of her mouth curving up just a little. “Yeah,” she says, picking up her glass and finishing off the scotch in one long swallow. “Let’s go.”

*

They walk out into the cold night air together and Olivia loops her arms through Erica’s, curling her hand against the curve of Erica’s elbow.

It must have rained at some point because the streets are wet and the air smells a little like ozone. Erica had to park pretty far away, and they make the walk in silence, stepping carefully over puddles in the sidewalk, their shoulders bumping every few steps.

It’s finally starting to get dark, the sun setting low in the sky, turning everything a kind of dusky purple-orange.

When they get to her car, Olivia turns so that they're face to face, pressing Erica up against the driver’s side door. She's close enough that Erica can feel her breath on her face and her whole body feels like it's buzzing, her heart just racing away in her chest.

She smells like alcohol and, in the light of the setting sun, her eyes are dark, the green turned almost black. Erica steps even closer to her, close enough so that Olivia’s coat brushes against her chest.

“You don’t have to get back tonight, do you?” she says and kisses Olivia softly, ghosting her lips over the spot right below her ear.

Olivia inhales sharply and tightens her hand against her arm. Erica smiles.

“No,” she says, kind of breathless. “I can stay.”

“Good.” Erica kisses her again, just on the corner of the mouth, and Olivia slides her hand around Erica’s waist, her fingers creeping up under the hem of her shirt.

Erica puts her hand against Olivia’s face, brushing her thumb against the curve of her cheek, and then she kisses her for real, running her tongue across Olivia's lower lip. Olivia smiles a little and kisses her back, opening her mouth under hers and pressing harder against the car, her hand sliding further and further up under Erica's shirt.

Erica gasps and presses her hips against Olivia's, reaching up with one hand and tugging Olivia's ponytail free. For the first time in weeks, she's not thinking about Tyler or Anna or the disaster that her life's becoming. Instead, she just moves closer to Olivia, running her fingers through her hair and biting gently at her lower lip, and not thinking about anything much at all.

Olivia cups her hand around the back of Erica's neck, holding her close, and Erica can't remember the last time she felt this happy.

As the sun disappears below the horizon and the streetlights start to blink on all around them, they stand there like that, kissing each other like it's all that matters, like they’ll never be able to stop.

*

end


End file.
